sunday, january 7

Just got in from Circuit. Sometimes the whole ridiculousness of gay dance clubs just won’t leave my mind. Men dancing with men? And all these guys framing their hands around their face and hoping the robotic light sweeps it’s red arc over to grace them with it’s fire. At the front are all the boys rolling X and doing G. They get a bottle of Gatorade and then go into a bathroom stall and pour their drugs into the sports drink to drink while they’re on the dance floor. Maybe I shouldn’t be so tough on them – maybe they are really trying to retain and replenish their electrolytes. Then in the center is a sea of bears. Older, fatter, hairier men that form long conga lines I call bear trains. It’s like the Soul Train only it’s old white men rubbing pelvises. On the platforms are the cute dancer guys – including one I have a little crush on – though he moves so well I keep thinking he has to be a total whore. I was going to dance on the platform with him but the stage was crowded with a bear train and I wasn’t in the mood to be a caboose. So I said good night to him and he kissed me on the lips goodbye. Tease.






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